dated each point of view,—but, considering such discussion fruitless, refrained from saying anything to prolong it,—indeed, it had already devoured so much time that she was too late to lunch at home and be punctual at her next meeting, so, stifling for a change of atmosphere, she decided to try a rather showy French restaurant that had caught her eye on the way down-town.
Once in the dining-room, Virginia regretted having come. The place was not disreputable, merely unsuitable, and she had passed the phase in which a young woman tries to assert her emancipation by risky bravado, perfectly understanding that a little outward conformity is the surest path to liberty.
Most of the tables held four people and were already occupied. A few had seats for two, and at one of these Virginia took her place, reading a newspaper by way of protection while waiting for the table d'hôte lunch.
The room was gayly noisy. Parties of chattering Frenchmen made merry as they watched the sugar dissolving in absinthe, the odor of which mingled unpleasantly with fumes of onion and cigarette. Other tables were occupied by eager families who fell upon every course with deepest interest. Electric lights flashed back dazzling rays from tawdry gilding and mirrors. At her desk by the door sat "Madame," with a beautiful professional smile for entering guests and a hawk-like scrutiny for trembling waiters.
Just above the sky-line formed by the top of her newspaper Virginia became aware of a curving expanse of waistcoat traversed by a watchchain. Both waistcoat and chain were of a splendor that fairly threw mirrors and gilding into the shade. Immediately she was addressed by a husky voice steeped in a nauseating tone of sentimentality.
"This is a lonely way for a young lady to eat her lunch."
"I prefer being alone." Virginia did not raise her eyes from the paper, and answered with the most self-possessed frigidity. She was not frightened, only deeply annoyed at herself for straying into such a position; but annoyance intensified almost to alarm when the stranger laid a fat, unmuscled hand well adorned with fashionable rings on the back of the vacant chair with an evident intention of joining her whether or no. She then looked straight into his vulgar, relaxed face, and spoke with a quiet clearness calculated to penetrate a hide of any thickness: "It will be extremely unpleasant to me and not agreeable for you when I ask the proprietor to put you out, yet that is what will happen in less than one minute if you don't stop annoying me. There are plenty of empty places."
Before she had finished speaking a pleasant voice interrupted, "Why, here you are! I'm so sorry to be late!"
